


Victim of Himself

by Michaella1996



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Martin being a father, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:15:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michaella1996/pseuds/Michaella1996
Summary: 1x7 AU - in which Martin’s plans don’t exactly work out. Spoilers.
Comments: 46
Kudos: 301





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don’t hate me, I know I need to write more on “The Cop” but last nights episode was AMAZING and I had to write this. Probably just going to stand as a one shot but if people are interested I could probably write a bit more on it! Let me know!

_ “Say it again, say I was a terrible father!” _

“Did you get that?”

“Yes, it’s all on camera.”

Martin froze, this wasn’t part of the plan.

“Oh you had a plan, that’s good.” Despite his frustration, he felt a twinge of pride, his daughter was cunning, vengeful, and everything he wanted her to be. However, her words had gotten under his skin. 

_ How dare she call Malcolm a victim. _ He had worked endlessly to ensure that Malcolm felt as loved as possible while he was behind bars. If Malcolm had just embraced his own urges, not fought him _ so damn hard _ , then maybe his fragile mind wouldn’t be as fractured as it was. No Malcolm wasn’t _ his _victim, Malcolm was a victim of himself.

A siren sounded, followed immediately by a red light flashing on and off. He suppressed a smile. _ Things were working out perfectly. _He glanced up at the still recording camera,

“Well we’re having an eventful day, aren’t we?”

He glanced up at his children, Malcolm looked a little panicked. _ Good, a little fear would remind him that Martin could protect him. _Not that Malcolm would have doubted Martin’s ability to protect him, but more so his conviction to do it. Martin was going to prove to both his children today that he cared. They used to look up at him with adoration, like he was a superhero. His goal today was to get that look back, to be the person his children needed.

Mr. David explained the situation to his children. Martin monitored their reactions closely. Ainsley loved the idea of adding more publicity to her story, that was the idea of course, and Malcolm just looked frustrated, like he was missing something. _ Oh his poor boy did hate not being able to solve a puzzle _. Then something happened he didn’t plan for. 

“Can he get some shots of the hallway? Just the door and stuff.” Ainsley asked.

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Malcolm interrupted, “No offense, but you don’t exactly look trained in any sort of defense.” Ainsley’s boyfriend rolled his eyes, _ what was his name again? Jim? Gin? _

“Not to step on your toes, but I work out quite a bit and that dude just said all of the doors are locked.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Malcolm interrupted, _ Oh no, this wouldn’t do. _ “We don’t know much about this guy, so we need to keep the door locked, he could have taken someone’s key card.” Damn, his son was smarter than he gave him credit for.

“Now Malcolm, maybe you should let your sister get some shots for her show, we all seem relatively safe.” He piped up. Malcolm glared. 

“Fine but I’ll go with him, Mr. David, please keep an eye on them.” _ Oh no, no, no, no. Malcolm could get hurt that wasn’t the plan. _ Before he could say anything they were walking out the door. Martin could only hope that the idiot Tevin remembered his very specific instructions.

A silence fell over the room as he and Ainsley both watched them go. A few moments later they heard a pounding on the door

“Ainsley! Ainsley Whitly! I’m ready for my close up!” 

“He has a key card! He has a key card!” His son shouted. Martin spring upright to see what was happening. Malcolm, being the heroic idiot, shoved the cameraman backwards, who fell on his ass and rolled over, smashing the camera on the way. Malcolm being where he was moments earlier was on the receiving end of Tevin’s knife. _ No, no, no! How dare that fool harm his son, he was very specific. He’d pay eventually, Martin would remove his eyes and feed them to him before slitting his throat, the idiot would die for his mistakes. _

“Malcolm!” Ainsley shouted, and helped Jin and Mr. David pull him into the room. Martin froze at the sight, his son, his perfect extension of himself, the baby he had held in his arms for hours on end, was lying in a pool of his blood, coughing. The fool hadn’t even stabbed the right place, he was supposed to stab the cameraman in the lungs, but it looked like he had stabbed quite a bit closer to the heart. If Martin was right, his poor son was moments away from cardiac tamponade, and would require a similar, but much more dangerous procedure.

Malcolm was sputtering and holding his chest, Ainsley grabbed some rags and tried to stop the bleeding. He locked eyes with Martin and they both knew it wasn’t going to help. Mr. David informed them the ambulance was on the way but that SWAT had yet to arrive.

“That doesn’t matter, they won’t make it in time.” His voice didn’t sound like his own, “He’s going to need a procedure called pericardiocentesis, blood is filling the sack around his heart. I need to drain it or he’ll die before anyone can get here.” Ainsley shook her head,

“No, Malcolm can’t die, Malcolm, you’re going to be okay.” She said and moved to cradle his head as her boyfriend took her place holding pressure. Malcolm sputtered a bit, blood escaping his mouth and looked past Ainsley and up at Martin with desperation. His heart broke, the last time his son had looked at him like that was when he was a toddler and his bunny died. 

“D-D-Dad.” He whispered, Martin’s throat closed with emotion, Malcolm hadn’t called him that in over a decade. “P-p-p-please.” He groaned, tearing Martin to pieces. He sank to his knees,

“Shh, shh, my boy, don’t talk, you’re using your energy. I’m going to take care of you, you’re going to be just fine okay?” Malcolm nodded weakly. After a brief discussion, Mr. David brought him a med kit and a scalpel.

“You’ll need to unchain me.” He said, holding his hands out. This moment was supposed to be victorious, a brief moment of glory to swoop in and prove to his children that he was a hero, but instead his heart was pounding in his chest, knowing that his son, _ his boy _, was going to be under his knife instead of some random cameraman. He hesitated, looking down at his son, who was still awake.

“This is going to hurt son, you’re probably going to pass out. Malcolm nodded, already reaching for a clean rag to bite down on. He kneeled by Malcolm’s side, still hesitant, he hadn’t touched his son since before being incarcerated, and now his son would associate his touch with pain, not the soothing hug of his father or a hand on his head while he was sick. Malcolm was rapidly paling, situation decreasing. 

Gaining confidence, Martin began. As he was working he noticed just how skinny his son was. A few moments later Malcolm passed out. Needing to distract himself he began asking Ainsley questions about his son. 

“You mentioned night terrors?” He asked. Ainsley looked startled,

“You mean you didn’t know? Malcolm has had them since you got arrested. That’s why Mom let him come see you the first time, they were so bad he wouldn’t talk.” Concerned, Martin glanced up at his daughter, 

“And he still has them? That can fracture a psyche if he has had them for too long.”

“I thought Mom talked to you about them? They got so bad he accidentally threw himself out his window, luckily he’s had to sleep with restraints for years or he’d probably be dead.” Ainsley said matter of factly. 

Martin frowned and refocused on his work. How could no one have told him?

“You seriously didn’t know?” She asked.

“No, I had no idea, I would have done something years ago if I had.” 

“Look… I… “ she trailed off, “Thank you, for doing this. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

“He’s my son. You and him are all I have, I'd do anything to protect you two. “ Ainsley was silent, and Martin followed suit as he finished up. “Mr. David, what is the status on the paramedics?”

“We’re still waiting on SWAT and the paramedics can’t come until the threat is handled.” Martin huffed and sat down next to his son’s head, running his fingers through his hair. Martin’s white outfit was coated in Malcolm’s blood. The moment was surreal, he was supposed to be celebrating with his children as they waited, instead a terse silence settled over them. Malcolm groaned a bit, jostling the tube some. Eyes widening, Martin held his shoulders down, if he moved too much the tube could shift and puncture the heart. Martin carefully maneuvered Malcolm’s head into his lap, maintaining his cervical spine and relieving the pressure. 

This part of the day wasn’t too bad, he had been starved of physical affection and hadn’t seen his son this at peace since before he was arrested. 

“You really love him don’t you?” Ainsley asked. Martin looked up, startled. “I know you keep saying it, but you genuinely care. You’ve treated everything else today so callously but you have actual human emotions for him.” Martin chuckles a bit,

“It’s not just for him, Sweetheart. I know your mother never let you visit but that didn’t stop me from asking. Malcolm told me so many stories over the years, I love you both more than anything.”

“Not more than killing.” She whispered. Martin rolled his eyes. 

“Ainsley darling, I know you’re smarter than this. You sound like a child whose parent works and thinks that their mother enjoys her job more than going to her kids recital. If I had known I would have been caught and ripped away from the two of you I wouldn’t have done it.” Ainsley grew silent with contemplation.

Some time passed and the paramedics came and took his son away. As they rolled Malcolm away Martin felt a pang in his chest, he should be by his son’s side, advocating as the idiots at the hospital handled him. Martin sat down at his desk and noticed a speck of blood on the corner of it. For the first time since his son was brought into the world, Martin began to cry.

_ Maybe he should change tactics, his children needed him. _

  



	2. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add another chapter to this, I’m not sure if it warrants any more but if people are interested I definitely have more ideas!

_Beep. Beep. Beep_.

Malcolm stirred, the noise distracting him from his slumber. _Was that an alarm going off?_ No his alarm was more of a siren, loud and obnoxious; this was gentle and calming, like a pulse. Wait.. exactly like his pulse. 

He readily became aware of a dull pain in his chest and his arm felt heavy. He cracked open his eyes and a white ceiling came into view. 

_What the hell? Was he in a hospital? What happened?_ The last thing he remembered was being in Claremont with Ainsley and his fathe- his father. He jerked up as it all came flooding back; _getting stabbed, his father’s hands inside his chest, Ainsley weeping, pain, red hot pain, pain, pain. _

“Kid! Kid! Calm down or you’re going to hurt yourself!” Gil shouted, coming up to the bed and gently shoving him back down. His hands began to shake and his stomach churned, remembering the feeling of his father’s hands inside of his chest, scalpel piercing inside of him. He began to hyperventilate, the beeping on the monitor increasing exponentially.

“Kid.” Gil came into view, “Breathe Kid, breathe.” Gil’s hand came to his forehead and Malcolm focused on the cool touch, _breathing in and out, in and out. _ He became acutely aware of another pain, this time in his throat.

“_Water_.” He croaked. Gil disappeared from view and came back a few moments later. As Malcolm drank he slowly moved to a seated position to view the room. Gil sat in a chair next to him, looking disheveled and in the same clothes that he was wearing the morning of the lockdown. “How long?” He asked, Gil sighed,

“Three days.” He said. Malcolm nodded and noticed a purse sitting in the corner of the room.

“Oh no. Mother is here?” Gil laughed and nodded,

“Do you think she’d leave you alone after this?” 

Malcolm groaned and rubbed his temple, ignoring the flash of pain blossoming in chest at the movement.

“What happened to the Tevin guy?”

“He attacked a SWAT member and was shot. He’s dead now. “ Malcolm nodded, it was probably for the best, the guy did stab him, after all. 

A companionable silence settled over them. A few minutes passed and his mother barged in; Jessica Whitly was a force of nature, nails and tongue sharpened for quick comebacks and clawing out the eyes of her enemies, whichever ended up occurring depended on her mood and exactly how much alcohol she had consumed that day.

“_Malcolm_ Darling!” She exclaimed, rushing towards him, “You’re awake finally! Sorry I had to duck out, I had a call to make about one of my foundations.” Malcolm nodded, amused;

“I’m glad you could spare some time for me Mother.” She scoffed, a hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth.

“_Oh, please Darling, don’t be dramatic_, I’ve spent the last three days in this depressing place because you couldn’t keep yourself from getting stabbed by a madman. Imagine that, your meeting with your _serial killer_ father, in a place full of _serial killers_ didn’t go well?” He suppressed a smile, his mother always knew how to make an ‘I told you so’ sound so demeaning. Gil interrupted,

“Do you really think this is the best time for your quips, Jessica?” Malcolm rolled his eyes, having seen this happen many times between the two of them. 

“She’s not being intentionally callous, she just can’t resist telling me that she was right.”Jessica smiled, eyes betraying her frustration,

“No, I’m simply stating that maybe in the future my son should take his mother’s advice and stay away from said serial killer father” at the silence she huffed and walked over to her purse.

“Malcolm darling, I love you and I’m glad you’re awake but I can’t be in the same room as this heathen cop who continually puts you in danger for any longer or you might have a second parent incarcerated.” Malcolm snorted in his water, 

“I’ll call you later mom, thank you for being here.” Jessica nodded and stormed out a few moments later after a stony glare at Gil. After the door closed, another silence settled over them. Not sure how to break the silence, Malcolm looked down at his hands. 

“Look Kid, I know this isn’t the best time to ask, but did you get any information on our killer?” Malcolm looked up startled, 

“Huh? Oh, uh yeah. My father knew him, said he mentored him. I haven’t got a name yet but I’m sure he’ll cooperate.” Gil nodded, 

“I’m glad you’re awake, you had us all scared there for a bit. Ainsley has been by twice a day and the phone has been ringing off the hook.” A relatively pleasant conversation followed and ended with Malcolm insisting Gil head home to take a shower and get sleep. Once he was out the door Malcolm’s hesitant smile fell. There was only one person he wanted to talk to right now. 

A quick glance around the room proved fruitful as he noticed his phone plugged in next to the bed. He leaned over, stifling a wince as more pain erupted from his chest. He powered the device on and waited for a moment.

_17 new messages_

_82 missed calls_

_19 voicemails _

The text messages were all from Ainsley, the phone calls were primarily from Claremont. He pulled up voicemails and began listening to them.

“_Bright? It’s Dani, I heard you got roughed up, I hope you’re alright, Arroyo hasn’t left your side. Give me a call when you’re feeling up to it.”_

_“Malcolm, it’s Ains, call me when you wake up. Also, I need_ _you to sign a release, the footage we got was insane! I could go national with this-“_

Delete.

“M-_Malcolm? It’s your father, I had to wait a day before all of the systems were back up before I could call you. You’ll probably still be out but I just need to know you’re okay.”_

_“Malcolm, it’s me again, I know you’re probably still not up, if any surgeon is worth their stuff he’d keep you out for a bit, but you never know what filth our system spews out as adequate these days.”_

“_Malcolm, it’s been a day already, you should be awake by now. Please call me when you can.”_

_“Son, I’m starting to get worried, there’s not a lot of reasons you would still be unconscious, I just hope you’re okay.”_

“_My boy, please. It’s been two days, you don’t have to talk to me for an extended period of time, just let me know you’re alive.”_

_“I tried calling your mother today, you can imagine how that turned out- she didn’t answer of course but you know how that goes-“_

Having heard enough, Malcolm hit the redial button. His father picked up on the second ring,

“_Malcolm_?!” His father sounded out of breath and anxious, “_Are you okay?!_” Malcolm sighed,

“I just woke up.”

“_What? That’s not normal, what happened_?”

“Well, I looked at my chart and it looks like I hemorrhaged when I got to the hospital and have been in a medically induced coma.”

“O_h, my poor boy, how are you feeling_?” Malcolm laughed,

“Sore. Tired. I feel like that time we got stranded on the side of the road and had to walk 8 miles into town.” His father laughed,

“_Oh you’ve always had a good sense of humor when you got hurt._” Malcolm’s smile fell at the reminder of his injury. His hand shook.

“I um...I wanted to say something.”

“_Of course, my boy_.”

“I uh- I just wanted to say thank you.”

“_You know I’d do anything for you Malcolm. I’m just glad you’re healing. I wish this hadn’t happened in the first place.”_ A lump formed in Malcolm’s throat.

“Me too, but I’m grateful you were there and that you saved my life,” he began to tear up, “I- I have an issue with control and I really thought I was going to die.”

“_Malcolm_,” His father’s voice took on a serious tone, “_I would never let anything happen to you. As long as it’s within my control I will always help you._” Malcolm nodded, “_Anyway_!” His voice turned more jovial, “_Who’s the hack that your mother let cut into you?_” Malcolm smiles at the change in conversation,

“Dr. Martinez.” 

“_My God, it’s a miracle you’re not dead. He was an old coot when I was in Med School._” They both laughed. A knock sounded at the door and the doctor came in.

“I need to go, but I’ll call you later, okay?” His father sighed, 

“I _never have enough time to talk to you son_. Come see me when you’re out.”

“I will, thank you Dad.” The word felt foreign on his tongue, but his father deserved it.

“_I love you my boy._” The line clicked and Malcolm felt alone again. 

_I love you too_.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay okay, every time I think I’m done with this story I get more inspiration, so I’m going to leave it open ended and assume I’ll write more of it. Thank you all for the reviews, they make my day!

Ainsley stood in front of Claremont. Wrestling with herself on whether or not to go in. On one hand, going in would hopefully ease the gnawing guilt in her stomach, but on the other hand, the idea of being  _ there again, with him again _ , made her heart pound and her palms sweat. She had only seen her father twice, and she was already starting to slip down the same slope her mother and brother had been sliding down most of her life. 

As someone roughly brushed passed her she shook herself out of her revere. With a deep breath she took the plunge and went inside. A few minutes later she found herself outside of her father’s cell.  _ Alright Ains, last chance to back out. _ As her father looked up and noticed her, his face broke out in a wide smile. Despite herself, a grin eased its way on her face as well. Steeling herself she entered the room and pulled out her phone.

“I wanted to thank you for saving Malcolm by showing you the final product and giving you a chance to redact part or all of it.” She stated, queueing up her phone. Dr. Whitly shook his head.

“While I’m not particularly thrilled about being on national television snapping at you, I’m not going to take your shot at taking your career to the next level away Sweetheart; you are very good at your job and I’m so proud of you.” Hearing him say those words again twisted something deep inside her, she always wanted a father to be proud of her, to love her. He continued,

“As for saving your brother, I would have done it a million times over, I love you both very much, don’t forget that.” He smiled at her and tilted his head, “How’s he doing though? I spoke with him briefly yesterday when he woke up but he’s always made an effort to minimize his own pain.” The edges of her mouth turned up slightly, yes Malcolm always tried to put easing the discomfort of others before helping himself. Despite herself, she began to relax,

“He does do that doesn’t he? When we were kids he fell of his bike and broke his arm and pretended he was fine the whole way home because he knew I’d throw up if I saw it.” Dr. Whitly laughed, eyes lighting up at the story, she continued, “He’s been really weak, because of his normal daily cocktail of drugs he’s pretty resistant to most of the pain meds, but he’s also terrified of losing control so he won’t let the doctors up his doses. Mother was livid when she found out and threatened to do it herself when he was asleep but Malcolm never sleeps too much anyway so that plan was a bust.” Dr. Whitly sighed.

“To be that resistant he must be taking quite a bit daily, that’s very odd a psychiatrist would recommend that much.” Ainsley nodded,

“Well his doctor decided a long time ago that Malcolm would be medicating his mind one way or another and she preferred him to do it the legal way.” At his questioning look Ainsley continued, “He overdosed when he was a teenager. We almost lost him, I’m surprised the two of you never talked about it.” Dr. Whitly looked like he’d been slapped in the face,

“Malcolm OD-ed?” She sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Ugh this is hard, I don’t know what you do or don’t know or what’s supposed to be a secret or not, I should probably just go.” 

“No!” Dr. Whitly shouted, standing up, “Please, please don’t go. Believe me, I just want to help him.” She sighed and sat on the ground, feeling the cool concrete through her thin dress pants. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Well he had a really tough time in school, he got beat up almost weekly, well at least until he was 16 when he changed his name and switched schools-“

“He what?!” Dr. Whitly stood up and began to pace, “he changed his name?”

“Legally he’s Malcolm Bright now, wait you seriously didn’t know any of this?!”

“No, it never came up.” Dr. Whitly ran a hand through his hair, starting to look a little deranged. Ainsley looked around the room, debating whether or not to just cut her losses and go. She glanced under the table and saw a speck of blood that had been missed when they were cleaning up. Bile rising in her throat she flashed back to that day and Malcolm’s desperate voice pleading for their father to save him.  _ The same Malcolm whose trust she was betraying by revealing all of this.  _ Mind made up, she stood and dusted herself off. 

“Not that this hasn’t been riveting, but I should probably leave before I say something that will ruin my relationship with-“ a ringing sound cut her off. Glancing down at her phone she noticed it was the hospital. With a look at he father she picked it up.

“Hello?”

_ “Is this Ainsley Whitly?” _

“Yes this is she.”

“ _ We’re going to need you to come down to the hospital, there’s been an incident with your brother” _

Beginning to panic, her heart started racing,

_ “ _ What happened? Is Malcolm okay?” 

_ “He attempted to leave against doctors orders and ended up bursting his stitches, they had to take him back into surgery to re-evaluate and make sure the repair held and sew him back up.” _

“I’ll be right there” she hung up and looked up at her father, his face was twisted in agony;

“Is he alright? What happened?”

“He was an idiot and tried to leave against doctors orders and ripped his stitches, he’s in surgery now.” Dr. Whitly sighed,

“Someone should probably stay with him until he can actually leave or he’ll probably end up hurting himself again.”

“Well we’ve been doing that, I think it was Mother’s shift, but she’s been planning this gala so she’s been in and out all day” her father growled a bit,

“She shouldn’t be leaving him alone, she knows how he gets.” Ainsley rolled her eyes,

“I need to go, he needs someone there when he wakes up.” Dr Whitly nodded, as she was leaving he shouted behind her,

“I love you sweetheart! Keep me posted!” 

As she walked out of Claremont she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe it would have been better if she hadn’t gone in to begin with.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay well after the episode last night, I have officially decided to make this a full fic, let me know what you think at the end!

The next day, Malcolm woke up feeling sore again, but ready to get back to work. He made Gil bring him the case files for this newly named “Junkyard Killer”. Gil refused at first but after Malcolm threatened to leave against doctor’s orders again, Gil relented. As the two of them poured over the files, Malcolm’s phone rang. 

_ Unknown Caller _

He picked up after a moment,

“Hello, this is Bright.”

“_ I tried calling your house but it seems no one in your family has manners. I was quite upset at first but then I heard what happened” _

“Who is this?”

“_ You don’t remember? It was a hell of a camping trip.” _ Malcolm’s blood ran cold and he sat up. Gil leaned forward with a questioning look.

“What do you mean? Who are you?”

“_ It was good seeing you Malcolm” _

“You’re the one who shot at me.” Gil stood up and walked over to the bed, Malcolm put the phone on speaker.

“_ Why were you delivered to me Malcolm? You interrupted me. I need you to stop trying to find me.” _

“You know I can’t do that.”

_ “That’s not what I wanted to hear Malcolm.” _

The line went dead. They sat in silence for a moment while he contemplated what happened.

“So this guy definitely knew your father then? I’ll place a protective detail here at the hospital-“

“No. That’s not going to work.”

“What?”

“Well he mentioned getting interrupted, Gil I think there’s another victim.”

“CSU has scoured that place, I doubt it.”

“No I need to go there, there’s someone there.”

“Absolutely not, you need to stay on bed rest. “

“Then you need to go there and video call me, this is going to require more than a CSU team.”

Gil sighed but eventually relented. As soon as he left the room, Malcolm dialed Claremont, he needed his father’s opinion on this guy. After a few rings Mr. David picked up.

“Mr. David, I need to speak with my father.”

_ “Sorry kid, he’s on shower time right now but he should be back in an hour.” _

“Have him call me, tell him it’s about Paul.”

A few moments later they disconnected and Malcolm sighed, this was going to be a long case, he could already tell. Gil called him a half hour later and together they found a victim, another druggie from the Bronx. After a quick brainstorm session on the phone they determined a common link between them. JT and Dani were going to investigate it. 

  
  


Having had enough of being on the sidelines, he called his nurse and asked her for the AMA paperwork so he could sign himself out. The twinge in his chest warned against it but he needed to know more. As he signed the last sheet his phone rang again, he picked it up immediately, expecting it to be his father.

“Hello?”

“_ Now Malcolm, I want to know how you found that piece of filth.” _ Hand beginning to shake, Malcolm asked,

“What should I call you? Paul?”

_ “I always liked the name Paul, it’s a strong name.” _Malcolm nodded, deciding to switch gears,

“Paul, I want to know what happened on that trip.”

“_ You mean the girl in your father’s trunk?” _His blood ran cold.

“Yes, tell me what happened to her.”

“_ Tell me how you found my hiding spot” _

“I’m very good at my job, you gave me everything I needed when we spoke”

“_ Liar!” _ Paul became agitated, “ _ Tell the truth!” _

“Why don’t you tell me what happened on that trip?” Paul growled. 

_ “You want answers kid? Look out the window.” _ Malcolm did as instructed, “ _ I’m the guy in the baseball cap. Finish signing your paperwork and follow me. I’ll tell you everything.” _ Mind racing, Malcolm contemplated calling Gil but ultimately decided against it, if he was going to get anything out of him, it had to be alone. As he walked into the elevator of the hospital, his phone rang again. Heart racing, he wondered if Paul had changed his mind. He looked down and saw it was his father calling. Knowing he had only minutes before Paul would get pissed and leave, he shakily answered.

“Dad?”

“_ Malcolm! How are you doing, my boy? I heard you tried to leave the hospital, that’s not ideal in your condition-“ _

_ “ _Well I’m about to leave again.”

“_ What?! You can’t be serious!” _

_ “ _My job is to catch Paul, and the only way he’ll talk to me is if I leave right now.”

_ “Malcolm no! You can’t do that!” _

_ “ _I need answers you seem unwilling to give.”

_ “No, please, I’ll tell you whatever you need but-“ _the doors opened and Malcolm shook his head, hanging up the phone, he didn’t have time for his father’s run around. Someone was actually willing to give him answers and he couldn’t let his father ruin that.

As he walked outside, he saw Paul waiting for him. The man turned around and began walking. Chest burning, Malcolm tried to keep up as much as he could. He followed Paul into a service tunnel, 

“Please just tell me what you know!” He shouted at him. Paul didn’t even turn around, moving through one of the turnstiles. Malcolm trudged after him, but as he entered the turnstile, Paul spun around and pinned him in, one of the bars pressing directly on his sutures and making him gasp. Unbeknownst to either of them, this also caused Malcolm’s phone to press into his hip, hitting the redial button.

———————-———————-———————-———————-

Martin paced his cell in a panic, Malcolm couldn’t go after him; he had no idea what that man was capable of, he was a force to be reckoned with even before Martin was arrested. He was hell bent on fulfilling this cause, and would kill anyone he perceived as being in his way, which is exactly what Malcolm was trying to do.

No, no, no; Malcolm couldn’t be near him, especially not in his weakened state; he was practically defenseless, having had _ three _ surgeries in the span of a couple of days. A few minutes of panic passed and the phone began to ring again, looking around Martin realized David was nowhere to be seen. He picked it up immediately,

“Malcolm! So you decided to change your mind, good call there son!”

The line was silent, save for some movement,

“Malcolm?” He asked questioningly, starting to panic again,

“_ Hello Malcolm” _ Martin froze, bile rising in his throat as he recognized the voice of his former colleague. “ _ You know, I have to admit I was surprised to see you,” _ he paused for a moment, “ _ You sound just like your father, look like him too, Hell, you even _ ** _smell _ ** _ like him.” _Martin groaned, he sounded like he was enjoying this confrontation too much. A few moments later a wheezing sound came through the phone, and Martin’s stomach dropped as he realized it was Malcolm,

_ “So kid, are you going to answer me? How did you know where my hiding spot was?” _

_ “I-already-told-you” _ Malcolm wheezed. Martin’s heart clenched, he sounded in pain, “ _ it’s my job, I profile what people say and do and guess what actions they’ll take next, you told me I interrupted you and that was the one place we hadn’t found a body.” _

** _“Liar!” _ ** Paul growled, and Martin’s heart dropped into his stomach as a metallic clanging sounded and Malcolm shouted in pain, _ “ _ ** _Tell me the truth, how did you know?!”_ ** The clanging sounded again and Malcolm shouted again, but this time it was cut off by a wheezing and gurgling sound.

“** _BECAUSE WE’RE THE SAME!” _ ** Malcolm shouted, Martin’s eyes widened, he’d never say that unless he had no choice, would never admit that, “ _ We’re the same! “ _ Malcolm continued, sounding more in pain than ever “ _ My father taught me everything he knew about murder! I’m my father’s son!” _Martin collapsed in his chair, frustrated tears at the corner of his eyes, he was helpless while his son was being hurt. The day Malcolm said those words was supposed to be joyous, a reunion, not a desperate plea for his life.

Paul chuckled, and the wheezing sound stopped,

“_ Perhaps there’s hope for you yet, if you want answers about the girl, follow the instructions I give you. Don’t involve the cops or I’ll know. “ _A moment passed and a final clang sounded and the sound of a body hitting pavement soon followed, Malcolm was wheezing and gasping in pain. Martin winced, his poor son wasn’t in good shape. As the sounds quieted, Martin knew it was his opportunity to catch his son’s attention, 

“Malcolm!” He shouted, a shuffling was heard on the other side of the phone,

“D-D-Dad?” He whispered hoarsely, “I’m in the service tunnel on 2nd. C-call an ambulance.” A crash sounded and the line went dead. Martin shouted in frustration and rapidly dialed the phone number of the last person he wanted to talk to. The phone rang for a few moments and a voice filled the room.

“_ Arroyo _.”

“Your junkyard killer attacked my son, he’s in the service tunnel on 2nd and need medical attention, try not to be a complete idiot and get him back to the hospital. “ Before receiving a reply, Martin hung up. As unfortunate Malcolm’s relationship with Arroyo was, the man would make sure to get to him as quickly as possible. 

Bile rising in his throat, Martin picked the book he was reading earlier off his desk and flung it across the room. _ His son could be dying right now and he couldn’t do anything about it. _For the third time in the last few days, Martin felt completely helpless, something he never handled well. Several hours later the phone rang again. 

“Malcolm!” He shouted, 

“_ Hi Dad,” _ he sounded weak, drained, “ _ This is the second time you’ve saved me this week. “ _Malcolm chuckled a bit.

“What happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“_ Well they had to stitch me up again, they’re pretty pissed about that, and I have a couple cracked ribs, they said I was lucky it didn’t puncture my lungs.” _ Martin winced, his poor boy. 

“You need to get some rest, my boy; and whatever you do - **don’t leave the hospital again until you’re better.”**

“_ Dad- how much did you hear?” _Martin sighed, of course Malcolm would want to know that. Deciding to spare his boy the extra anxiety,

“I heard a loud noise and then you were gasping and wheezing, I shouted for you and then you grabbed the phone.” He heard Malcolm sigh in relief.

“_ Dad?” _

_ “ _Yes son?

“_ Paul wants to tell me more about the trip.” _

“Malcolm, please listen to me. Once you’re healed, I promise you I will tell you everything in person, but whatever you do, don’t follow him again, you have no idea what he’s capable of.”

_ “Who is he Dad?” _

“Malcolm, I could tell you who he is, but trust me when I tell you he’s not someone you _ want to catch _. “

_ “It’s my job Dad. I have to catch him. _” Martin ran a hand through his hair. 

“His original name was John Watkins. He was an intern at the hospital, but I don’t know too much about who he is now.”

_ “I need a bit more to go on than that.” _Martin sighed, 

“Look, that's all I can tell you until you know the full story. I promise you, I’ll tell you everything as soon as you’re able to leave the hospital.”

“_ Okay” _ Malcolm sighed, and Martin knew he was just saying what he wanted to hear. “ _ I’ll call you tomorrow Dad.” _Martin nodded past the lump in his throat,

“Please stay alive until then Son.” Malcolm laughed and hung up. The half smile dropped from Martin’s face, Malcolm was going to get himself hurt again. _ His protege was going to hurt his son. How dare he? After all Martin had done for him, the ungrateful brat was going to pay. _

His stay in Claremont needed to end if he was going to protect his son.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know what you’re thinking, no this won’t be another Martin kidnaps Malcolm fic, considering I have two of those already that would be redundant, I won’t give away anymore than that, so stay tuned, thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reviewing!!!! I love it so much, I will get around to responding to them, but each of them make my day, so thank you!
> 
> So I decided to hold off on adding too much plot until I know what happens in the next episode, so any chapters between now and then will be backstory/filler with little plot, so just a heads up on that!

Martin began to plan his escape, which would have been fairly simple if he hadn’t arranged the previous security breach, which meant the entire facility was on high alert. No, Martin needed something simple and elegant that would give him enough time to simply slip away while no one noticed. The problem was any plan worth it’s weight would require a delicate touch, which required time he did not have. He sat in silence contemplating his options; bribing a guard? No that meant relying on someone else. A fire? No, that was too destructive and there were too many variables. A fight? That could be promising, but again would take some time to do properly.

Sighing heavily, Martin frowned,  _ his boy needed him now. _ He exasperatedly ran his hand through his hair as the events of the last few days caught up to him. He learned so much about Malcolm, perhaps too much. 

“ _ Malcolm OD-ed”  _ Ainsley’s words rang in his head like a desolate church bell. His poor boy, his son, was so fragile, so close to being broken. He dejectedly moved from his desk to the bed, suddenly exhausted, whatever he would plan could wait until the morning. As he laid down, he reflected on the first time Malcolm had come to see him. It had been a few months since he had been arrested and with Jessica’s vehement hatred of him he hadn’t anticipated seeing anyone for a long time. 

He had looked  _ so small _ being escorted in by the guard, so broken and thin. He had felt anger rise at the thought that his son wasn’t eating properly; it was Jessica’s  _ only job _ , and she hadn’t been doing it properly. Malcolm had stood in silence, eyes downcast, hair slightly ruffled, clothes askew. Jessica would normally never let him out of the living room looking like that, let alone leave the house. He had felt a small sense of satisfaction at that, she  _ knew _ that Martin was what was best for their son. She was many things; prideful, stubborn, vindictive, but a fool she was not. 

Martin had spoke first, which looking back should have been a red flag, his son used to be such a chatterbox, constantly going on and on about whatever popped into his head;

“Hello, my boy. I’m glad to see you. How’s school going?” Malcolm looked up, probably startled at how familiar, how  _ normal _ the conversation was. A moment passed and his gaze returned to the ground, trying to hide the well of emotions. He frowned, if he wanted Jessica to let him come back, he had to make sure Malcolm wanted to come back. He drifted to the front of his cell, wanting to reach out and wrap the boy in a hug that he very obviously needed. 

“Malcolm? Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looked up again, face red, tears at the corner of his eyes, he opened his mouth to speak and then seemed to change his mind as he furiously closed it and turned to face the wall. “Malcolm? You know you can tell me anything, or ask me anything; if you want to just yell and scream at me that’s fine, or if you want to just stand here in silence we can, but there’s something you want to say, so please, say it, my boy.” He spun around, tears having escaped, rolling down his face now, 

“You don’t get it do you?” He spat, voice trembling, “We’re broken now. I go to school and people stare at me, Mom keeps drinking, and Ains cries herself to sleep every night because you aren’t there to sing to her.” Martin’s heart broke,

“I’m so sorry, Malcolm. If I could undo it all, I would.” Malcolm sobbed, taking an accusing step towards the cell,

“You told me there were people in this world to look out for, people who wanted to hurt our family, I didn’t think you meant you.”

“Malcolm, no my boy, that’s not what happened.” He looked up at Martin, face hollow and gaunt, looking more like a soldier with PTSD then a boy. “Look son, you are the only thing that matters to me, you and your sister. We’re family, I would do anything for you.” He straightened up and wiped his face with the maturity and grace of an adult. He turned away to compose himself. When he turned back, he looked more curious than angry. 

“So why did you do it?” The question stopped Martin’s heart.  _ Why had he done it? _ If he was being entirely honest the answer was actually very simple;  _ because he wanted to. _ He had always made it a point to do what he wanted, regardless of the consequences, but maybe there was more to that behavior than he thought? He looked down at the calculating eyes of his boy as an idea formed. He grinned,

“Well, I’m not quite sure the answer to that, but it seems I’ll have some time on my hands...what do you say we figure it out?” Malcolm’s eyes gleamed and Martin knew he reeled him in,  _ his boy loved a puzzle more than anything. _ Satisfied about knowing he’d be coming back, Martin expected the visit to be over there, but once again his boy surprised him.

“They call you a monster.” Bile rose in his throat,  _ of course they did. _ “The kids at school, the people on the news. Are you?” The innocence of it almost brought him to his knees, his boy, this young man was still just a child afraid of the demons under his bed, unfortunately the demons in his mind were far more pressing issues. Martin smiled again, a quite wicked grin splitting his face in two,

“Of course not, my boy. Monsters aren’t real.” A few moments later, Malcolm was escorted away, the questioning in his eyes more intense than ever.  _ His boy would be back. _

In the present, Martin recalled the memory, which he had once looked on fondly, with a more analytical eye. How could he have been so stupid? Of course something was wrong with Malcolm, there was no way Jess would have given up control otherwise. Recalling Ainsley’s words he felt a pang of guilt in his chest, his little chatterbox had stopped talking because of him. Malcolm used to adore him, thought that he was a superhero, and he had taken that from him. Perhaps Ainsley was right, maybe Malcolm was a victim here.

_ No. _ Martin clung to the thought. He might not have been around all the time, but he had given Malcolm a good life, had taught him everything he had known. No, Malcolm’s problems could all be traced to outside influences, not to him. Nodding to himself, Martin rolled over and contemplated what to do. Malcolm needed someone in his corner, someone stable, unwavering. Jess wasn’t up to the task clearly, she hadn’t even been able to pull her head out of her ass long enough to keep him from leaving the hospital.  _ Arroyo _ wouldn’t do it, by putting Malcolm in continual danger he proved that he cared more about solving cases than his son. Ainsley was a promising prospect, but she felt too much pity for her brother to be able to be useful. No this was a task for a father, but he couldn’t bring himself to want to remove Malcolm from his situation, no matter how tempting it was to kidnap him and take him away where no one could hurt him again- he stopped himself at the thought. 

No, kidnapping wouldn’t do, Malcolm would just resent him. No he needed Malcolm to  _ need him _ , to want him around. If he could get some leverage he could probably convince Malcolm to not call the cops when Martin turned up. With a frustrated sigh, Martin sat up. Sleep was extremely alluring but seemed so far away at the same time. How could he sleep when he knew that he had almost lost his son so many times? 

  
_ Something needed to change, he couldn’t wait for the perfect moment, he just needed  _ ** _one_ ** _ opportunity to get out. _


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so first of all- MAJOR SPOILERS FOR 1x10.
> 
> Secondly- I went back and changed the name I gave Paul Lazar to match the show and be a bit more canon. I hope you all enjoy this because everything from here on out will be SUPER AU (I mean I’m assuming it will be unless for some reason my doc ends up aligning with future episodes that haven’t happened yet so who knows!)
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing!

The FBI took over the junkyard killer case, not that Malcolm was surprised; it was only a matter of time before _ that woman _ got her claws in it. She really did not like him. He spent another 12 days in the hospital, during which time he had a consistent string of visitors; the most frequent being his mother and Gil- one of them was pretty much there consistently. Jessica Whitly was very much not thrilled when he had returned with cracked ribs, and blamed herself for being preoccupied; she had even hired a bodyguard to stand watch outside his hospital door and restrain him if he tried to leave again. In the few brief moments he had alone he called his father. 

If there was one thing his father hated, it was not being in control of a situation, and Malcolm being in the hospital, mostly unreachable without any face to face contact was the epitome of a situation he couldn’t control- not for lack of trying though. Every conversation he had with him his dad made it a point to ask him about _ every single _detail of his recovery- his blood pressure, whether the stitches were itching, how much medication he was on, etc. After the obligatory grilling, his father would steer the conversation towards his emotional health and whether or not he had heard from Paul-John. The answer was of course still no. This was followed by a few minutes of amiable chit chat and was usually cut short by the return of one of his many visitors. As mind numbingly predictable as it was, the brief conversations with his father kept him grounded in between the pitying stares of his mother and the guilt he felt from distracting Gil from cases.

After 12 long, _ agonizing days _ , Malcolm was able to finally go home. He stepped outside of the hospital and breathed in the fresh air- well as fresh as you can get in New York. His mother wanted to have him come to her house, but he insisted. He needed _ normal. _ It didn’t help his mental state that there were no leads on Paul Lazar...at least no official leads. He had planned to tell Gil about what his father said about Paul’s real name- but the case had been taken from them and the FBI didn’t seem interested in his help at all.

Not for lack of trying though. He had been on one single conference call and that woman had shut him down completely.

Plus, John was _ his _lead to track down.

Once he had properly waved off his ragtag gang of hovering well wishers, as well as his mother’s incessant body guard-who only went away once Malcolm had paid him double what his mother had- he began to frantically search for leads on John. Eventually he found an address, it was 20 years old but that didn’t mean it wasn’t worth pursuing. Making up his mind, he stood up to leave, but as he did so he noticed that it was after midnight and he felt a twinge of pain in his chest, and he heard his mother’s nagging voice in his head,

“_ Now Malcolm, don’t overexert yourself or I will be forced to utilize the many people I have in my employment to move you back home and make sure you don’t leave your childhood bedroom until those wounds have completely disappeared” _

He sighed and settled down onto his couch, no one would appreciate being disturbed after midnight regardless. He turned on the TV and almost had a heart attack as he saw his own father’s face glaring at him maniacally,

_ “Say it again! Say I was a terrible father!” _He snarled and Malcolm winced, he really did not want to relive this. He turned it off and began to scroll through his phone instead; his mind was restless, but there was no cure except answers. 

A few moments later his screen went dark and began to ring. 

_ Claremont. _

That was odd, he really couldn’t think of a reason why his father would be calling. With slight hesitation he picked up,

“Dad?”

_ “Malcolm? I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier my boy, there was erm- well there was an incident here and all of the systems had to be rebooted again. I just wanted to make sure you were back home safely. “ _Malcolm shook his head, amused- his father always seemed to call at the oddest time.

“Yes Dad,” he chuckled, “I’ve been home for a couple of hours.” 

_ “Good, good. When’s your next follow up visit?” _

_ “ _Two weeks and then sometime in the new year they’ll take the stitches out.”

“_ That hack didn’t use dissolving stitches? You’ll end up looking like Frankenstein!” _

“Well I think the first round of them _ were _dissolving ones, but they kept popping.”

“_ Regardless, it’s the mark of a surgeon who doesn’t care to use traditional stitching.” _ Malcolm laughed,

“No one is good enough are they?”

_ “When it comes to my children? Absolutely not.” _

“Speaking of your children, have you seen the interview yet? It’s everywhere.”

“_ Honestly I’ve been trying to avoid it. As you know, I don’t exactly come off well.” _

_ “ _Yeah, I don’t exactly like seeing myself cut open on the ground either.”

“_ They had that in there?! Ainsley wasn’t even filming!” _

“Apparently her boyfriend was, and the network made sure it was in there.” His father sighed.

“_ I should have taken her up on her offer and watched it before it aired.” _

  
  


“It probably wouldn’t have done any good, Ainsley is a bit of a firecracker.”

“_ She has that in common with your mother” _

“Yeah that’s the truth.” 

“_ Well my boy, you should probably get some sleep, my phone time is ending.” _

_ “ _Good night Dad.”

“_ I love hearing you say that. Goodnight son.” _

He hung up and sighed. He ran his hand through his hair and glanced up at the clock, it was barely after one. He laid down and tried to fall asleep; first thing in the morning he’d go to John’s address.

————————————————————————————————————

At promptly 7 AM he was knocking on the door. A blind old woman answered the door and ushered him in. She offered some food, but he declined. It was obvious she played the biggest influence in creating John. He excused himself under the guise of going to the bathroom in order to further explore.

He found a cabinet where John had clearly been chained up as a child. Religious artifacts adorned the entire house and Malcolm felt….giddy; he finally was beginning to understand, to read John. He turned around to make his way out of the room and froze. The doorway was blocked by a tall man.

“She called you.” It was a statement, not a question, “She knows about you.”

  
  


“_ My Johnny takes out the trash!” _ She whispered from somewhere behind John. Malcolm winced, eyeing the room to find a way out, a window was behind him but he’d have to act fast. He made a move and spun around, but as he did so an arm came around his middle, pressing directly against his stitches.

“Now Malcolm,” John breathed in his ear, “I really don’t want to injure you further but I will if I have to.”

“We’re going to catch you, you can’t hide from us.”

“Oh no one is going to find us where we’re going.”

“_ Us?” _

_ “ _ Yeah, I have a trip in mind for us, just like old times.” Malcolm struggled, pain erupting in his chest at the movement. John sighed and adjusted his grip, lifting him slightly in the air. He gasped in pain as his stitches stretched, black dots decorating his vision. _ No, no, no. He couldn’t afford to pass out. _

  
  


He went limp, pretending to be out of it and as soon as John loosened his grip Malcolm kicked backwards, hitting him in the ground and causing him to fall to the floor. He ran to the window, struggling with the latch. A moment passed and then a pain blossomed in his head as he was hit with something. He fell to the ground, clutching his head in pain as the spots returned. He felt a pair of hands grasp his ankles and begin to drag him across the dirty floor. He struggled weakly, but the pain was too much. They hadn’t even made it to the stairs before he passed out.


End file.
